After the Fall
by Jedi-Amara
Summary: [post HBP,canon,Voldemort] Voldemort has been vanquished at last, so why the disquiet? As the wizarding world celebrates the downfall of the Dark Lord and mourns the loss of Harry Potter, darkness is emerging once again, and deep secrets will be revealed.
1. The Letter

**After the Fall**

_by Jedi(insert underscore here I hate FFN formatting restrictions)Amara_

**Author's Note: This is my first Harry Potter fanfic; I usually restrict myself to the Pokémon fandom, but since reading Lightning on the Wave's excellent Sacrifices Arc, I was inspired to write my own HP fic. If you haven't read her fics yet, you're doing yourself a disservice; go to username lightningonthewave and read them NOW. This fic is also one of my first efforts to write a full-length fanfic, as I'm a one-shot specialist; in fact, I'd planned to have this a series of one-shots from different points of view, but thought it might work better as a cohesive whole. My background is best demonstrated in the chapter lengths, which are likely quite a bit shorter than what one would normally see in a full-length fanfic. Gah. And as I can't capture J.K. Rowling's voice, I write in my own style; hence the narration is rather OOC, and the characters are probably fairly OOC as well. x.x**

**Harry Potter is not my favourite series of books, but it lends itself well to fanfiction and its author is not against fanfiction.**

**I was _planning_ to use a lightning bolt as my separator, but I phail at ASCII art. **

**_DISCLAIMER:_ I do not own the Harry Potter concept, series or characters.**

**_RATING:_ I've placed a "T" rating on this fic for themes, possible violence and language. I don't think it will go beyond that; I'm not even sure if it'll go up to that. (Your US ratings system is a little different to ours in Australia, and I don't quite understand it yet x.x.)**

**_APPROXIMATE SETTING:_ Just after the fall of Lord Voldemort. Post-HBP, post-canon, post-Harry. After leaving school, Harry, Ron and Hermione tracked down the remaining Horcruxes, destroyed them and went to confront Lord Voldemort. Harry did battle with the Dark Lord and killed him, but was lost to the wizarding world in the process. The aftermath is discussed from a number of POVs; one you certainly won't have is Harry himself, being dead.**

**_PAIRINGS:_ RonxHermione, HarryxGinny, some DracoxHarry.**

**_NOTE ON SPELLING:_ I'm Australian. I use Australian/English spellings not US spellings. If that bugs you, sorry. I'm not changing them.**

**_DEDICATION:_ This chapter is dedicated to JKaizer, who forced me to read HP fanfics and basically did everything else for me, too. He's also the only person I _know_ will read this chapter. (less-than sign here)3 ya Gweggy!**

**I promise my other author's notes won't be as long as these were. Call this an "initialisation pass", if you like. I combined the introduction and first chapter into one page, as they're short. Mmm, so here comes the story...**

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**Introduction**

**What Came Before**

It was a year, now, since Albus Dumbledore had died, killed by the two-timing Death Eater Severus Snape. It didn't feel like a year. Hermione Granger sighed as she looked at the photograph in her hands. Three smiling faces looked out of it - Ron's, her own, and between them with a shy grin on his face, Harry.

She missed Harry, but had already accepted the fact that he wasn't coming back. That he _couldn't_ come back. She had seen him die, and been the second person to hold his dead body. She hadn't wanted to touch the other one.

The preceding year had been one of the best years of her life. Darkest, certainly, but also the lightest. She had never felt so able to reach out to her friends whenever she needed them. They'd always been close, but they had become more of a unit than ever during the search for the Horcruxes, and now one of them was gone.

_Harry_ was gone.

Hermione had never managed to find out who R.A.B. was. She could only conclude that it had been an assumed name, as her forays through the annals of wizarding history had never turned up anyone with a connection to Voldemort. Hermione had never had time to complete her search before Voldemort had tracked them down and confronted them. Harry had had no choice.

She could only hope that R.A.B., whoever he or she was, had managed to destroy the Horcrux.

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**Chapter 1**

**The Letter**

The letter came in the morning post.

Petunia Dursley shuddered slightly as she bent to pick it up from the doormat. She noticed the lack of a stamp in the corner, recognised the green ink on the front. She couldn't think - didn't want to think - why _they_ would send a letter _here_, of all places. Surely the boy had notified them when he'd left the house for good? It had been almost a year. They should have been able to track him with their... abnormality.

She lifted the envelope gingerly between two fingers, and gasped as she read the name on the front.

_Mrs. Petunia Dursley  
The Hallway  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging, Surrey_

It was only then that she realised something might be wrong.

Petunia flipped the envelope over and stared at it for a long moment, before slipping her index finger under the flap and tearing it open. Neatly. She started to draw the heavy parchment from the envelope, then thought better of it, moving back to the kitchen and sitting down. Taking the page from its covering, she opened it.

_July 9, 1998_

_Dear Mrs. Dursley,_

_We regret to inform you, as next of kin, that your nephew Mr. Harry Potter has passed away. I am sure this will come as unwelcome news, but assure you that he died a hero, fighting He Who Must Not Be Named in defence of the wizarding world. I wish to offer a Ministry of Magic-funded funeral for the deceased._

_Rufus Scrimgeour_

_Minister for Magic_

Petunia sat for a moment, motionless. She didn't know how to react to the news.

-----

Vernon Dursley entered the house with his customary door-slam.

"Well, how about that, eh Petunia?" he boomed jovially, striding into the kitchen. "Best deal I've done in months, the Masons want us to fit out their whole - Petunia?" It was only then that he noticed his wife sitting, pale-faced, at the kitchen table, a piece of paper lying in front of her. She held it out to him, wordlessly. He took it and scanned it, then looked at her.  
"Looks like we're rid of that ungrateful git at last!" he said, breaking into a grin. "Let's break out the champagne, shall we? Call Dudders in to tell him the good news?"  
"_No_," said Petunia, bleakly.  
"Petunia - surely you're not... _disappointed_ by this? We've been wanting to be rid of him for years! Perhaps now his people won't be bothering us anymore."  
Petunia shook her head. "I know, but... he was Lily's son."  
Vernon turned purple. "That good-for-nothing sister of yours means nothing, and nor does her son! What would the neighbours say if they heard you talking about them? I thought we were trying to deny her existence!"

Petunia stood shakily, putting out a hand to brace herself on the table.  
"She was my sister. He was her son. Now they're gone."

-----

Rufus Scrimgeour paced back and forth. He couldn't seem to stand still nowadays, though he knew that He Who Must Not Be Named had been vanquished at last.

Vanquished by the Boy Who Lived, who had turned out to be the Chosen One after all.

Rufus had never liked Harry Potter, even when he was still head of the Aurors and had heard glowing reports of the boy from Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks. Potter had been mired in controversy and far too independent for his own good. Rufus would have liked to have brought him to task on more than one occasion, but by the time he was no longer under Dumbledore's protection he was too strong to be handled comfortably. Rufus was loath to admit it, but he had been afraid of the boy.

Fear was no longer the problem. Potter was dead. Nothing could reverse that. At least, he didn't think that anything could reverse it.

That morning, Rufus had sent an owl to Potter's aunt, his eldest living blood relative. There were only two with the blood of Lily Evans in their veins now. The owl had been timed to arrive with the Muggle post; Petunia Dursley would have received it by now. He wondered idly how she had reacted, and then realised, in shock, that he had not given her a way to reply to his offer. The offer he had not wanted to make, but that had been expected of him.

About to call Percy Weasley and instruct him to send another owl to the Dursleys', Rufus hesitated. A white flash had passed the window, and now it returned. A large snowy owl hovered just outside the glass, the sheet of paper in its beak stopping it from tapping for entry. Rufus stepped over to the window and loosed the catch, taking the letter from the owl's beak. It perched itself on the windowsill and cocked its head to one side. The note contained only two words:

_Thank you._

Rufus looked at the bird, and remembered that Potter had owned a snowy owl.

-----

Ronald Weasley plonked himself down on the battered couch and stared mournfully at the tear-stained face opposite him. He shouldn't intrude on her grief, he supposed, but Harry had been his friend too. They'd shared a somewhat different relationship, though. Ron had been there at the last. He'd seen Harry fall as You-Know-Who collapsed to the ground; he'd been the first to rush over to where two crumpled shapes lay facing each other. He'd been the first person to take Harry's hand and feel the life rushing away.

Ginny hadn't had even that. While Harry was fighting the battle of his life - the battle, ultimately, of his death - she had been safe at Hogwarts, prevented from joining them by the anti-Apparition wards. She had felt it when he fell, and the only person who was there to comfort her was Luna. Ron hadn't known that Harry had linked himself to Ginny; Hermione had told him later. Harry had not wanted to do anything that could hurt the younger girl, but Ginny had insisted, and Harry had loved her too much to refuse.

Hermione stood in the doorway, looking worried. While she had always been welcome at The Burrow, it was still the Weasley family home, and she wasn't sure if she should invade what seemed to be the shared sorrow of a brother and sister. Ron looked up at her, and jerked his head. She came to sit by him, slipping her hand silently into his. They watched Ginny quietly, for a few minutes, before Ron snapped. He jumped up.

"Ginny, you haven't eaten for three days!"  
"I can't," muttered Ginny, hiding her face in her hands. "You know I can't."  
Hermione reached out to her friend. "Ginny, Harry wouldn't have wanted you to be like this. You know that," she said softly, touching Ginny's arm. Ginny pulled away.  
"It's different for you! You were there! You saw it!"  
Ron threw up his hands. "You make it sound like it was fun for us. It wasn't. We saw him _die_."  
Ginny took her hands from her face and looked into his eyes, her glare cold as steel.  
"And I _felt_ him die, and it felt like I was being torn apart, and I couldn't go to him. I _loved_ him. You'll never understand how I felt."

Ginny stormed from the room. Ron turned to Hermione.  
"Well, at least she's moved for the first time in... days," he said helplessly. Hermione looked at him.  
"Honestly, Ron, sometimes you are _such_ an insensitive _git_!" said Hermione angrily, before following Ginny. Ron flopped back onto the couch, reflecting that he would never understand girls.


	2. Unnerving Situations

**After the Fall**

_by Jedi Amara_

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I encourage you to review, and thank the two people who did review the last chapter (one of those on my LiveJournal). I shall endeavour to post one more chapter this week, and then I will not have computer access for a couple of weeks, so expect to see more at the beginning of February. Bear with me.**

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**Chapter 2**

**Unnerving Situations**

Minerva McGonagall drew a ragged breath as she slowly pulled herself into a sitting position. The scar running the length of her right leg twinged, and she reached for a goblet at the side of the bed, grimacing as she forced the bitter-tasting liquid down. She knew that her wounds would probably never heal, but _damn_ it, she wasn't going to take it lying down.

A particularly sharp pain lanced through her side. She bit back a yelp and fell backwards onto her pillow. Fine, she'd take it lying down, but she definitely wasn't going to like it.

Like many other witches and wizards, she'd sustained life-threatening injuries in the war against... You-Know-Who. She still couldn't bring himself to use his name, though Albus had always insisted that fear of a name increased fear of the thing itself.

She still couldn't accept the fact that Albus was gone.

It had been a year, but she still expected Albus to Apparate suddenly, a twinkle in his eye. Hogwarts didn't seem like the same place without the sturdy Headmaster, defender of the school and feared enemy of all who followed the Dark Lord. Minerva had assumed the position of Headmistress when he had died, the expected appointment being confirmed almost immediately by Scrimgeour. She didn't know if she could still handle the position, though. She couldn't guess how long it would be before she was free to move around again. Bellatrix Lestrange had tracked her down and challenged her, though not in as many words. No, it had been an unexpected curse, and Minerva had barely managed to shield it, helped only by the warning of Professor Sprout, who hadn't had time, after that, to raise her own shields. She had fallen to a Malfoy curse - the father, not the son. Minerva had held doubts, even to the last, that Draco would be able to kill anyone.

He had tried, then. Sent a Killing Curse towards Hermione Granger, who had dodged behind a large tree just in time, then sent a spell of her own towards Malfoy. Miss Granger had been the cleverest student at Hogwarts, and her phenomenal prowess had been ably demonstrated by the charm she used, a modified Body-Bind that had come from all directions and hadn't given the young Death Eater a chance to block it. He was in Azkaban now, awaiting trial with the rest of them, though there was no doubt of the verdict. Azkaban was being guarded by Aurors, loath as the Ministry was to spare them from other duties.

Minerva had Stunned Bellatrix Lestrange, who had toppled from the heights of the tower to break on the ground below. There was a bitter irony in that, a comparison to the way Dumbledore had fallen a year before. Healers had arrived minutes later, rushing to take Minerva to St. Mungo's, but they were too late to save the Herbology teacher.

St. Mungo's, always busy, was packed with other casualties of the war. Minerva didn't like it, so she had firmly checked herself out and enlisted Filius Flitwick's help to Side-Along Apparate into Hogsmeade. If her wounds weren't going to heal anyway, there was no point being somewhere she didn't want to be, and Horace Slughorn was a perfectly adequate potion-maker. He could brew the same pain-reducing remedies she would have received at the hospital, while she would be far more comfortable in a familiar environment.

Jamming a pair of glasses onto her nose, Minerva reached for the _Daily Prophet_, and enchanted the newspaper to float above her with a flick of her wand. The headlines were all about the defeat of You-Know-Who, of course, as they had been for the last few days. This irritated her; surely there must be _something_ else going on in the wizarding world. Ah, and here it was, a side-column on the front page:

_**Harry Potter Offered Official Funeral**_

_by Rita Skeeter_

_The late Harry Potter, known alternately as the Boy Who Lived and the Chosen One, has been offered a Ministry of Magic-funded funeral._

_Potter, 17, died as he defeated He Who Must Not Be Named in an attempt to save the wizarding world. Potter is believed to have used his life-force to power the curse that killed You-Know-Who. The battle was witnessed by Potter's friends Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, both 18._

_"He wouldn't have wanted all this fuss," Miss Granger told a reporter for the _Prophet_. "Harry did it because it was something he had to do."  
"I don't want to talk about it," said Mr. Weasley. "Leave us alone for once, why don't you?"_

_Percy Weasley, a representative from the Minister's office, said that Potter's service to the wizarding world justified the public expense.  
"Well, we had to offer it, didn't we? I mean, he killed You-Know-Who and everything, there'd be a public uproar if we hadn't!" he blustered._

_The Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, refused to comment._

So, a public funeral, was it? A brief smile touched Minerva's lips. She wondered what would come of this.

---

Dudley Dursley laughed, loudly and harshly.  
"We showed him again, didn't we?" squealed Piers Polkiss, who was still the same unattractive, gangling boy he had been at eleven, though now legally counted as an adult.  
"I love the sound he made when you socked him right there in the stomach, Big D," said Darren Throng, a heavyset youth with a permanently menacing look on his face.

At that moment, a door opened. A figure emerged from the house in front of which the gang was standing, and proceeded up the driveway, waving an umbrella. It was Mrs. Figg, the loony hag who was obsessed with cats. Dudley hated the woman.  
"What are you boys doing making noise outside my house, then? Get off with you!" she said firmly, poking her umbrella in their direction. The boys laughed.  
"What're you going to do about it?" said Dudley rudely. Mrs. Figg turned and called into her house.  
"Hagrid! Could you give me a hand, please!"

The gang could hear footsteps. Stooping under the doorframe, the largest man they had ever seen shook his head and stepped into the light, drawing himself up to his full height. Dudley's mouth dropped open, and he stared at the man in shock.  
"'Ere, what are you doin' now? Clear off!" said the man, but Dudley was already running as though for his life. The rest of the gang straggled after him, one or two risking a look back to catch another glimpse of this giant.

---

Dudley slammed the door open and ran through the hallway.  
"Dad! Dad!" he panted. "I just saw that, that, that giant who gave me a tail!" He stopped. "Dad, why are you drinking already? Where's Mum? I want my tea!"  
Vernon pointed at the table. "Read that."  
Dudley reached for the letter and read it, very slowly. His lips moved as he made sense of the words.  
"Harry's gone?" he said dubiously.  
"Yes, yes, it's all true! He'll never come back to disturb us again!"  
A grin spread gradually over Dudley's face.  
"Aunt Marge isn't going to like this, Dad. You know how she liked to set Ripper on him."


End file.
